


Kitchen Duty

by pulangaraw



Category: Leverage
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-18
Updated: 2011-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:23:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulangaraw/pseuds/pulangaraw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliot makes up his mind. Hardison helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kitchen Duty

**Author's Note:**

> For Torra, who kindly feeds my addictions and also offered the prompt: "I wasn't even in the room." I changed it slightly.

Eliot put his hands on his hips and scowled at the plates, glasses and cutlery currently scattered around what was technically Nate’s kitchen. Unfortunately, the dishes remained unimpressed. He went over to the fridge just to make sure he had the right day.

Thursday, yep. It was his turn. He scowled again, just for good measure, as he surveyed the mess. Earlier today, Parker had decided it was her turn to cook, which had turned out to be the worst idea ever. It had ended in three burned pots, two broken plates, a stench that reminded Eliot of the crate of rotting fish he'd landed in that one time he'd visited Sao Paulo, and enough black smoke to make Hardison take his precious computers upstairs into Nate's bedroom while muttering something about delicate hardware and soot.

In the end they’d ordered Chinese take-out. Parker had stared at them menacingly for a few minutes until the smell of edible food had distracted her. For a such a small person, Parker could be pretty damn scary.

Eliot silently cursed Sophie and her idea of setting up a kitchen duty roster. And then breaking the damn dish washer. Grumbling, he began stacking dishes and carrying them over to the sink.

Five minutes later, footsteps announced the arrival of Hardison. Eliot let out a preemptive growl. He was _not_ in the mood for talking.

Hardison, sadly, was as oblivious as ever. He plonked himself down somewhere behind Eliot and started clacking away at a keyboard. Eliot dared to hope that maybe he would be spared the chit-chat.

He was just settling back into the rhythm of dunk-wipe-rinse-stack when Hardison said something.

“What?” Eliot turned around to glare at Hardison.

“Just admit it. You think I’m hot.” Hardison grinned at him.

“I do not -” Eliot’s hands twitched, making water splash over the edges of the sink. “I don’t even _like_ you.”

“I didn’t say you liked me. I said you think I’m hot. And now I’m sayin’ you wanna jump my bones.”

Eliot scowled and turned around properly, hands dripping sudsy water over Nate’s hardwood floor. He put himself face to face with Hardison who was sitting at the kitchen counter. “There’s only one thing I want to do to your bones, Hardison. Just give me a reason.”

Hardison’s grin, impossibly, widened even further. He leaned forward until his lips - _his lips_ \- brushed against Eliot’s.

“Hrng.” Eliot said, intelligently.

“Knew it,” he said triumphantly. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think no one’s looking,” Hardison continued, face still way too close.

“I do _not_ look at you,” Eliot said, but even to his own ears it sounded weak.

“Man, you’re lookin’. And you’re talkin’.”

Eliot narrowed his eyes.

“Just yesterday you and Parker-”

“Yesterday, you weren’t even in the room,” Eliot interrupted.

Hardison winked. “That’s what surveillance is for.”

“I’m gonna kill you. I swear, Hardison, I’m going to...” he trailed off, distracted by Hardison’s easy smile. Who was he trying to kid anyway? He _had_ been looking.

Hardison had a nice body - for a geek. Broad shoulders, narrow hips and long, long legs. Nicely muscled, but not overly so. And from the evidence he’d just offered, Hardison was not averse to the idea of sharing his body with Eliot. Which, who was Eliot to refuse?

“Eliot?” Hardison asked, expression uncertain.

Eliot made up his mind. Giving him a predatory smile, he reached over the counter and grabbed the front of Hardison’s shirt. Hardison’s eyes widened, but before he could try and pry Eliot’s hands off him, Eliot had pulled him halfway over the counter and his lips firmly sealed over Hardison’s mouth.

“Mrmph,” Hardison said and stopped flailing. He leaned into the kiss eagerly.

They broke apart breathlessly a few minutes later.

“Sofa?” Hardison panted, looking a little cross-eyed.

“You sure?” Eliot asked quietly.

“Oh, I’m sure, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.” Eliot stepped around the counter, one hand still in Hardison’s shirt.

“As you wish, princess.”

Eliot growled, but he was way too turned on to make it sound properly menacing. Hardison just laughed and let Eliot push him down onto the sofa.

Behind them, in the kitchen, the dishes were forgotten.


End file.
